A/N: As always, thanks go to everyone who left a review!

RHAEGAR

The court of Rhaegar Targaryen differed from that of his father's in several ways. It lacked the opulent feel of King Aerys youth, and held only a hint of the underlining threat that populated the later years of his reign. The courtiers themselves had changed, as if understanding that the whims and pleasures of their new king skewed more towards scholarly and artistic, a level of physical display was undermined in favour of intelligence, or at least the appearance of intelligence. More than one lord or lady would try and gain the king's attention by quoting from old tomes, or voicing an opinion that might sound insightful to the uneducated and ignorant. Despite the seemingly endless series of displays, the king rarely bestowed his favour and spent most of his time at work fulfilling his duties as Protector of the Realm.

"The newest report from Lord Commander Stark has arrived, detailing various items that need to be addressed," Jon Connington was saying. "Both Deep Lake and Queensgate have been successfully repurposed and manned by a garrison of two hundred men each, though the Nightfort is taking longer than anticipated to rebuild and Stark is requesting more stone masons to assist in its construction."

"See that it's done," Rhaegar said.

"At once, sire," Connington paused briefly to refer to his mental agenda. "Lord Velaryon also sends word from the Narrow Sea; he has changed his shipping rout to accommodate for the increase of prisoners he has taken on from Volantis. He wishes to inform you that he has gone a route that is slower, but safer from corsairs and other undesirables who might try to steal the cargo, especially now that is carrying a considerable weight in both flesh and Volantian gold."

"A commendable alteration," Rhaegar agreed, nodding his head slightly.

Jon paused again, though this time visibly winced when he realised the subject. "There is also word from the Riverlands. Walder Frey will not be coming to the capitol I'm afraid, he is pleading age and infirmity."

"He is old and he is infirm," the king replied. "But he is also the man I tasked with keeping the Riverlands in check."

"May I suggest, then, sire, that you send a loyal servant to The Twins to speak with Lord Walder on your behalf? It might even do the people of the Riverlands some good to see Your Grace visiting them in person. They would love you for it."

Rhaegar glanced at his old friend, red hair and beard flecked with the slightest hints of grey. "While I can appreciate your thinking of my standing with the smallfolk, I've no interest in crawling inside that conniving rat's den. I simply wanted him brought to the capitol so that I might publically announce that his regency of the Riverlands is done, and that Edmure Tully will be instated as Lord of Riverrun. If the old weasel will not come then I shall leave him in his hall to die as he should have done long ago."

Lord Connington crossed his arms in a show of disapproval. "You needn't be so harsh or dismissive of the entire region just because you dislike the current regent. The Riverlands have long been estranged to your rule, and it would do to at least make a show of being more attentive to their situations."

Rhaegar considered his friend's remarks in silence. While he bore the Riverlanders no particular malice, Walder Frey and his brood had become a bigger annoyance over the years, abusing what little authority Rhaegar granted them. And that is without even mentioning the Trident, he thought grimly. The site of his battle with Robert Baratheon was not a place he wished to revisit any time soon. My sleep is filled with enough horrors…

"All right," he said finally, "I will make a concession, and travel to Riverrun instead and publically announce Edmure Tully's ascension there."

They continued on with matters of the realm for another hour, mostly in relation to the Volantian prisoners Lord Velaryon had received. Though it was not a common practice, Rhaegar found several advantages to the deals he had struck with the Volantians that would solve more than a few problems he would be facing further down the line. He was in dire need of miners to work the Dragonmont for Obsidian and the criminals he had been recruiting from the realm were taking away numbers from the Night's Watch recruitment pools, so he turned his gaze across the sea to the overwhelming crime that infected several of the Free Cities. Volantis readily handed their prisoners over, as well as their weight in gold for the service which inevitably resulted in said criminals working themselves to death in the steaming underground tunnels. The obsidian was mined, and he had gold enough to pay for the expansion along the Wall, saving him a good fortune to utilise across the realm. And still, he thought grimly,they call me Aegon the Unlucky come again….

Rhaegar stood on the balcony of his formal chambers while the light waned and darkness crept over the Red Keep. In the garden below, Visenya danced about waving around a wooden practice sword as she sparred with a son of one of the many lords who roamed his court. At some point she would have to be brought inside and focus on her lessons with the Maester, but for now Rhaegar was content to let her enjoy herself.

Sensing the arrival of Arthur and two other knights, he swung from the view and stepped inside.

"The Queen has been holding court again," Arthur said.

"That is the duty of a queen when the king is otherwise disposed," Rhaegar replied.

Arthur gave him a long-suffering look. "In this case that particular duty should be removed, she's been acting…rash again.

The king trailed the trio down a long flight of stone steps and along a hallway until they came upon the yawning throne room packed with lords and ladies, knights and gold cloaks. Rhaegar's arrival was heralded and the entirety of the massive room went quiet, all of the people parting for him as he walked towards the dais and the massive chair of swords. Arthur Dayne and the two other white knights remained at his side.

Cersei rose from her place on the Iron Throne as he approached, looking like a naughty child caught out doing something wrong. She grabbed her skirts and rushed to him, giving a slight curtsey before placing a kiss on his cheek. "Your Grace," she said. "I've just been attending to a few matters while you were busy."

"So I see," Rhaegar said as he turned to observe those few cowering men and women moving away from the foot of the dais. "Though I hope you remembered what we spoke about last time."

The Queen blushed, looking about as innocent as she could get. "I did, Your Grace, I was merely teaching a few petulant commoners a lesson in-"

He silenced her with a quick kiss on the cheek. Over the years he had come to learn that his wife was prone to bouts of cruelty, often times verging on the point of monstrous when the mood struck her. He knew for certain that it was a madness much like his father's, and realised that there was little he could do to strip the taint from her heart and mind. She loved him, or at least, convinced herself that she did, but had not for a second tried to change her ways; she merely grew more cunning about how to hide it. He had found that the best way to deter her from hurting those she had power over was to distract her through affections, both emotional and physical.

"What is the matter at hand?" he asked after he had ascended the spiked monstrosity that was his throne. He shifted uneasily, feeling the sharp metal poke under his shoulders. The feeling was in its own way reassuring as it kept his mind on the waking present. He looked down at a tall, hooded man flanked by two gold cloaks. "You, what is your business?"

The man, tall and incredibly muscular in build, stepped forward and threw back his hood. His face and head were completely bald, a hard looking man with a hint of youth about him. "Your Grace, my name is Archibald Yronwood and I have been travelling for some time now to reach you, tasked by your daughter, Princess Rhaenys."

"Oh?" Rhaegar leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "And why is that, Ser Yronwood?"

The Dornishman looked about uneasily. "She gave me a letter that was for Your Grace's eyes only."

Rhaegar gestured for the man to come forward, and with some reluctance he handed the letter to Arthur, who ascended the dais and in turn gave the letter to Rhaegar. The enthusiasm he had built up was quickly dashed when he realised that it wasn't from Rhaenys, but he felt his breath hitch when as he recognised the hand as Elia's.

Rhaegar,

It has been quite a while, hasn't it?I hope you are well and that the court life has agreed with you as much as my time back at the Water Gardens has for me.Our daughter has paid me a visit along with her entourage of friends, and I was witness to just how much of a strong young woman she has become. On that score, I thank you for the liberties you have provided that allowed her to grow that way. I have heard that Aegon has become quite the celebrated tourney knight; does he take after you in that sense? I hope so.

But enough pleasantries, I write to you now about dire matters.I have always suffered from illness, you know that better than most, but of late I have become quite sick. Bedridden, if I may be completely honest. The Maesters are not sure if it is a passing ailment, or if the Gods seek to finish the job they started at my early birth, but either way I am in an interstice of health and have no guarantees about my future beyond the immediate. I have given this letter to Rhaenys on the firm instruction that she never open it, and for now I would hope that you honour my wishes in keeping this news from her and Aegon. I have not spoken to you in a long time, and I know that things between us have been difficult for longer still, but in this hour of desperation I beg you to come to the Water Gardens. I would have us sit and speak to each other as husband and wife one more time, to converse with the partner I knew so long ago when I first left Dorne. Please Rhaegar, I beg you, come to me.

Elia

Rhaegar sat in silence for a long time, his fingers ghosting over each word, trying to feel Elia through the ink and parchment. He felt stricken, and a deep longing flowed through his being.After all this time how can she still make me feel this way? After a long moment it suddenly occurred to him that the whole court was watching him expectantly. He folded the letter up and looked down at the Dornishman. "I thank you for your service, and do hope that you will enjoy the hospitality of the crown for a few days as I consider my response."

The tall man bowed and was escorted from the throne room, Rhaegar's eyes upon him the whole time. He sat brooding on his throne for a time after that before gesturing for the next person step forward. The man was clearly a foreigner, dressed in a frivolous garment that looked to be stitched together from a dozen different materials, yet held himself like a warrior.

"Your Grace," the man bowed. "I have the honour of being Jacaerys Rogare, admiral of Lys."

Rhaegar stared at the man, took in his Valyrian features. House Targaryen had old ties with that particular Lyseni family, and Rhaegar himself could trace his ancestry back to both Larra Rogare through his the main line, and more distantly to Drazenko Rogare through the Martell blood he held. Does this man come into my court thinking to use our shared kinship to his advantage? If so the Lyseni would be sorely disappointed.

"What brings you to Westeros my lord?" Rhaegar asked casually.

Rogare's face grew sour. "War and bloodshed, I'm afraid." He exhaled before fixing his purple eyes upon Rhaegar's own. "Tyrosh has declared a war upon fair Lys, and seeks to rally with Pentos and Myr. It has been a gruesome and frightful affair for the entire region."

"I've already heard all about the political instability across the sea," Rhaegar said from his throne. "What do you want?"

Unaccustomed to straight talk, the Lyseni frowned, then said, "I and several other admirals plan on leading an attack that would nip this insidious alliance in the bud, Your Grace, and I've come to solicit your support."

"By support, I presume you mean of the military kind?" Rhaegar said.

Rogare shifted his weight uncomfortably, his boots squeaking against the floor. "I'm aware that it has long been the position of the Iron Throne to remain somewhat detached from the affairs of Essos, but there are things involved in this conflict that would concern the people of Westeros as well."

Rhaegar motioned negligently. "The War of the Ninepenny Kings should be example enough of how Westeros would react to foreign invasion."

"You misunderstand me," Rogare said, raising his hands in submission. "I am merely stating that the Tyroshi, along with their Pentoshi allies, have in their possession something that might cause…ugliness. I speak of course, of the last descendant of Daemon Blackfyre backed by the Golden Company."

There were a few gasps of surprise amongst the courtiers, and Rhaegar noticed that Gerold Hightower's face had turned into a seething grimace. He kept his face a perfectly trained blank mask, his hands resting carefully over the jutting steel of his throne. "Ser Barristan Selmy of my Kingsguard killed the last male heir of Daemon Blackfyre, whoever the Tyroshi has, if they are indeed Blackfyre's kin, would be from an inferior female line. The laws of Targaryen succession have been quite clear since the Dance," the king allowed himself a confident smile. "Besides, they are bastards who have ever been defeated."

Rogare swallowed uneasily. "Then you would leave us to die while a pretender to your throne reaps the rewards?"

Rhaegar opened his mouth to answer, but instead it was Cersei who spoke, her voice holding a sweet note as it carried through the halls. "The crown will not leave your good city to fend for itself, my lord. But military aid cannot be given," she smiled kindly at the foreigner and the whole of the court. "Instead we shall grant you a loan so that you may finance your war efforts against these foul pretenders and brutes," she looked over at Rhaegar for reassurance before adding, "with gold donated by Casterly Rock, of course."

"We would expect this loan to be repaid when the fighting is done," Rhaegar added seamlessly, "With interest, as well."

A light came into Rogare's purple eyes. "That would be greatly appreciated Your Grace, my people would never forget this kindness. They will sing songs of the merciful king and his beautiful queen!"

Rhaegar steepled his fingers and raised his hands to his chin. "I would have it done in a timely manner, within a year of victory. And in addition to repayment, I want your people to send me the heads of the Golden Company's leaders, and the Blackfyre they follow."

The Lyseni fretted. "I can't make promises, Your Grace. The Golden Company is the best Sellsword army in the world, and even if we are able to defeat them in combat there is no guarantee that we could get them all-"

"Those are our terms, my lord," Rhaegar cut in. "Kill the pretenders, deliver their heads, and we will support your city's war effort."

After a long moment of silence, Rogare nodded. "I accept your terms, Your Grace. You will not be disappointed."

When the Lyseni left the throne room, several of Cersei's personal servants followed him out to further discuss the logistics of the agreement. She looked up at him from her place below the throne with an anxious expression, desperately hoping for his approval. It was in moments like that that Rhaegar could see the wounded young woman that she was, and it was with extreme difficulty that he reminded himself that had he not been there then she would have likely had the Yronwood man publically flogged at the smallest indiscretion. Use her devotion to you, he told himself. If I can use my influence on her to introduce even the slightest bit of sanity then it will be worth it to keep her around the court.

He gestured for her to come closer, and when she did he reached out and gently took her hands within his own and kissed them lightly. "You did so well my love."

Cersei's green eyes shone brilliantly and the slightest blush came over her cheeks. "I was only doing my duty, Your Grace."

"And you do it well," he said with a smile.

After a while the gold cloaks showed in another man, this one much, much less dignified or physically impressive as the last two. He was short, plump and looked as though he had seen the Stranger himself, such was his cowardice in the face of the overwhelming court. However, what drew Rhaegar's attention was the large sack the man was carrying. It looked heavy and full. And dripping.

"What is the meaning of this?" Rhaegar asked carefully. "What in the name of the Gods do you bring into my court?"

The man whimpered and cast his eyes down. "You must understand, please, you must understand, I am only the messenger! Only the messenger!"

Rhaegar levelled the man with a cold stare, and after a moment the cowering wretch reluctantly upended the sacks contents on the floor of the throne room. There were shrieks and gasps from amongst the courtiers, and several guards drew their swords in outrage. Bloodied heads rolled out before them, almost a dozen and all different shapes and sizes, and all with some form of golden hair. Cersei made a noise, and with a trembling hand covered her mouth as tears rand down her cheeks.

The small man looked up at them all with frightful eyes and held his hands up to show that he meant no harm. "They made me," he whimpered. "They wanted me to carry a message to you. The C-Crow's Eye wanted to apologise for not sending them to you by trebuchet as he had promised, but…" the man swallowed uneasily and looked away. "He…he hopes that the queen would appreciate the trouble he went with reuniting her with her family."

And with that, all hell broke loose. Without thinking he got up and took Cersei in his arms, even as she raged and screamed for the man to be hung, as her voice grew fierce and wild with curses and threats and promises of horrible violence. She thrashed about, hitting him and anyone who came close, desperately struggling to get to the messenger. Eventually Rhaegar had to carry her from the court and with the help of Arthur and a small army of handmaidens managed to get her into her bedchamber while the Grand Maester provided her with a brew of Dreamwine. Even as they got her into her bed, she still struggled and fought. "Please, don't leave me," she begged him, latching onto his arm with hands that were near claws. "Stay with me tonight."

He caressed her cheek but shook his head sadly. "I must see to this matter, I must speak with my small council at once."

She let out a sob of despair and her whole body shook. "Where's Jaime? Bring me Jaime, I need him."

"Jaime is with Aegon," he said quietly, stroking her hair softly. "Is there anything else you need? Anything else and I will see it done."

"Visenya," she breathed, her voice grown tired and tiny. "I need my little Dragonet."

Rhaegar smiled and gave a gentle nod. "Of course, I'll send for her in a moment," he kissed her gently and pressed his head against hers. "For now I need you to try and sleep. When you wake up we'll all be here with you."

He sat with her for a little while longer until her breathing grew steady and then left her chamber in silence. The sun had set outside and he ordered several of Cersei's maids to stay and watch her throughout the night in case she might wake, and commanded his daughter's nursemaid to take her into the Queen's chambers instead of her own when it came time for bed.

Leaving his family to rest, Rhaegar strolled down the dim hallways of the Red Keep in silent fury, Arthur, his constant shadow, seemed to materialise beside him and kept pace. "Everyone is inside Your Grace, and they're appropriately concerned."

"So they should be," Rhaegar hissed before pushing the doors of the small council chamber open and striding in with purpose.

The council members looked in a flustered state, even as they sat in silence watching as Rhaegar took his place. Ardrian Celtigar sat glaring a hole into the polished oak of the table, looking as ever an angry old man while Alester Florent rubbed at his temples in frustration. Jon sat perfectly still in his seat beside Rhaegar, his whole body thick with tension and building rage. Only Ser Gerold seemed to anywhere near calm, sitting at his place with resolute assurance.

"My lords," Rhaegar said, "What happened in that throne room today was a complete and utter insult to everything I and my ancestors built. Such brazen hostility and open cruelty to my people cannot be tolerated." He looked around the table. "We must act."

Jon took that as his cue to speak. "I took the liberty of sending ravens to several of the outlying castles in the Westerlands, something that I quickly learnt was in vain," the Griffin Lord held up a letter. "Not an hour ago we received a raven from Highgarden, they have confirmed the worst. Casterly Rock has fallen."

"To Ironmen?" Lord Celtigar stared at Connington in disgust. "Of all the men to fell the best-defended castle in the Seven Kingdoms, you are saying that it was those loathsome reavers?"

Connington did not flinch. "Euron Crow's Eye led the attack on the Rock whilst one of his nephews set Lannisport ablaze. They currently occupy a large chunk of the Western coast, and all the gold of Casterly Rock."

Alester Florent looked ready to be sick. "They have one of the world's biggest sources of gold...what if they use it to hire sellswords, or to bribe one of the Free Cities?"

"The Ironborn are traditionalists, their religion dictates that they take what they want through force rather than through trade," Arthur's voice was quiet, but held a steel tone. "We can rest assured knowing that they won't up and spend all that coin on buying allies. They'll sit on it for a while and divide it amongst themselves."

Rhaegar grunted affirmatively. "It'll be the Greyjoys and their people whom we fight, but I shouldn't expect the battle to be just held in the Westerlands," he looked to Jon. "Have there been any more reports of Ironborn attacks? Where is Balon Greyjoy in all of this?"

"Though we cannot say for sure, there has been increasing reports of Ironborn sightings near Bear Island and some in the Stepstones," Jon showed his palms. "Balon himself is being oddly quiet."

The King did not like that, and sat back in his chair to brood. The Ironborn were a strange breed and had caused the Seven Kingdoms nothing but grief for thousands of years. Yet up until now they had merely been brutish warriors praying on those weaker than themselves using force alone.Taking Casterly Rock was done through cunning rather than strength, he concluded.The only thing worse than a beast is a beast who can think…

"We must mount an attack to push the Ironmen back into the sea," Rhaegar finally said. "The longer they stay on land the longer it fouls the soil."

Ser Gerold rumbled his agreement. "Give me the command sire, and I drive a spear through the heart of this foolish rebellion and bring back the heads of the Greyjoy scum."

"And what army would you lead, Gerold?" Arthur gave his sworn brother a look of disapproval. "We can call upon the forces of the Crownlands, the Reach and perhaps a good portion of the Stormlands. We might even manage to break through the defences of Casterly Rock and slay these Ironmen….but it would come at a price too great for the Realm to pay. Thousands would die and half of the realm still grieves for the last time House Targaryen had to fight against a rebellion," he looked about the table. "We need to be a united front when we vanquish this foe."

Old Lord Celtigar stroked his tapered beard. "The new lord of Riverrun will be in the Crown's debt upon his ascendency."

"But," Florent cut in, "Between the War of the Usurper and the bandit attacks there are barely enough men of fighting age left. That field has been picked clean."

Jon pinched his nose. "The Vale has a significant force, with any luck and the promise of certain concessions; they will come to our aid."

"The lords of Vale still hold us in contempt even if they do pay homage," The White Bull stood from his seat, fists clenched. "Those cowards would rather dally in their mountains while the rest of us bled ourselves against the Krakens!"

The arguments continued on amongst the council members, slowly growing more heated and fierce. Rhaegar put his head back and closed his eyes, made it all go away. In his mind's eye he saw Westeros, bloodied and blackened from war, snow falling and thousands of the freshly drowned crawling from the sea at the behest of an icy king emerging from the true north. Instinctively his mind recoiled and thought of warmer places, warmer people. Elia.Suddenly he knew the answer.

"Dorne,"

The other men all went silent and stared at him in blatant confusion and irritation. In the end it was Arthur who asked the question that was on all their minds. "What about Dorne? You're despised there perhaps worse than anywhere else in Westeros."

Rhaegar smiled at him and slowly rose from his seat, gesturing for them to do the same. "There was a time when all of Dorne openly fought against the other six kingdoms and it took my ancestors to bring about a lasting peace. I am tired of this decade long estrangement between Targaryen and Martell. I will do as Baelor the Blessed did before me, I shall go to Dorne and reunite the Dragon with the Rhoynar. I promise you, we shall have a united realm once again!"